


Status Quo

by unmaskedirony



Series: These Omegas Aren't Broken [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Acephobia, Alpha Geoff Ramsey, Alpha Ryan Haywood, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Author is bad at jokes, Bullying, F/M, Get it- generic, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Literally could've called him Gene Eric Character, M/M, Omega Michael, Omega Ray Narvaez Jr., Prequel, Random OC that doesn't matter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmaskedirony/pseuds/unmaskedirony
Summary: Prequel to Angry Omegas.'When Michael returned to school a mere week later, everything had changed. His friends who had /never/ given him shit before were suddenly sniffing him and eyeing him up like a fucking meal. Changing in the locker room for gym was suddenly a lot more awkward. The amount of unwanted attention was almost unbearable.He didn’t notice how badly omegas were treated until he was one of them.'





	1. Michael Presents

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with more angry omegas (ft. tragic backstory).

When Michael presented, he was damn near sure that his body was a fucking liar.

For years he expected to wake up one day with a knot. His brothers were all alphas. His friends were mostly alphas. They all said it suited his personality; he was loud, aggressive, and stubborn. He should’ve had a knot.

Instead, he woke up one morning shivering and drenched in sweat. His sheets were soaked through and a violent swirl in his stomach forced him out of his bed to throw up in the bathroom.

His mother had heard the commotion and stood in the doorway, looking down at him with one hand over her mouth. What Michael hadn’t realized in his rushed trip to the bathroom was the his pants were also soaked- not with sweat, but with slick. He looked up at his mother on that painful morning, and she looked close to tears.

Her son was an omega. Not an alpha.

He was different.

\---

When Michael returned to school a mere week later, everything had changed. His friends who had /never/ given him shit before were suddenly sniffing him and eyeing him up like a fucking meal. Changing in the locker room for gym was suddenly a lot more awkward. The amount of unwanted attention was almost unbearable.

He didn’t notice how badly omegas were treated until he was one of them.

“Who can list off the five core knothead rules?” Mr. Simmons numbered the board, expecting the kids to ramble off answers immediately. When the class remained silent, the disgruntled professor turned to the class, “It was in your reading last night.”

A chorus of slams filled the room as kids flung out their books in an attempt to locate the answer before Simmons got agitated enough to call on them. Michael pretended to flip through himself, painfully aware that the beta behind him was leaning forward to sniff him. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught a classmate getting too close to him, but every time he brought it up to a professor they’d wave it off with some sort of excuse. ‘You’re all hormonal teenagers,’ they would say, ‘So long as they’re not physically affecting you in some way, it’s fine.’

It sure as hell didn’t feel fine.

Another student, Kara, thankfully found the answer first, “Uhh, pack alphas have executive decision on all mates within a pack, unlcaimed omegas should be offered to an alpha without a mate first-”

“What happens if all alphas have an omega already?” Mr. Simmons asked a follow-up question. 

Kara blanked, but was saved by the beta next to her, “Then they’d go to the pack alpha or any alpha interested in them, right?”

“Yes, and what if no alpha wanted them?”

“They’d go to a beta.”

Michael hated hearing the old knothead rules. No one claimed to follow them anymore, at least, not since the beginning of the modern era, but the nightly news still brought forth stories of aggressive packs that exist in small towns and fights that break out because of these stupid rules. Now that he was an omega, hearing about the history of his status bothered him.

Mr. Simmons wrote down the first two rules and then gestured for the class to continue listing them off. One of his friends, Zach, volunteered, “When two alphas are interested in courting the same omega, they fight.”

“What happens based on that fight?” The teacher wrote down the third rule as he prompted the students for displaying their understanding.

Zach chuckled, as if the results were amusing to him, “The winner gets to take the omega and the loser gets a bitch mark.” The rest of the alphas in the class- Michael’s /friends/ laughed at his explanation.

“Language,” Mr. Simmons scolded. “Would someone please explain the outcome more /eloquently/?”

A hand shot up from the back corner, grabbing Michael’s attention. He knew the kid in the corner well, but only because his friend group liked to mock him for his status. He was a male omega- a rare breed, just like him, “It means that the victor gets to mark the losing alpha. It’s similar to a claim mark, where it won’t go away. It’s meant to be shameful.” Jon didn’t seem phased by the rules or by the mocking remarks his friends were making under their breaths. Michael felt like shit just looking at him. Not even a month ago, he would be joking along with his friends about the lad’s status too. Male omegas were rare anomalies that struggled even more than female omegas in life. Their bodies behaved like females, but they were unable to conceive. In an instinctual society, they were useless.

Now, the fact that his friends could joke about the fucked up anatomy of male omegas made him sick.

“Good work. Now, what about rules four and five?”

Another student followed Jon’s example and raised their hand, but an impatient alpha spoke over her, “Omegas should be marked and kept in the sight of the pack at all times. And omegas that directly disobey their alphas should be banished from the pack.”

Michael swallowed hard.

History was the hardest class to deal with now, because he had to think about how he would’ve been treated if he were born in any other century. He would’ve been collared, locked away, and trapped with whatever alpha wanted him. /If/ any alpha ever wanted him. He slunk down lower in his seat, waiting for the bell to ring so he could disappear.

\---

When class was finally over, his friend group gathered at the door to wait for him, but he waved them off. He should be thankful that the group didn’t throw him aside when he came back reeking of a bitch. His rowdy group of alphas were fine with his status, much to his surprise. They called him the group’s token omega and, for the most part, things proceeded as usual. At least he could keep one shred of normality while the rest of the world judged him for his ability to slick.

Even so, he didn’t feel comfortable with some of the things they did, and he /knew/ they’d make fun of him for what he was about to do, so he sent them on their way to lunch early. 

He lingered in the classroom, haphazardly throwing his books in his backpack until there were only two students left. Summoning his courage, he stepped in the direct path of his classmate.

Jon didn’t even bat an eye at the sudden roadblock, “Problem?” He asked, almost daring Michael to pick a fight with him. Now that Michael thought about it, he’d never seen the omega submit to anyone, not even on accident. How the hell did he manage to sit in a room of alphas and keep his cool?

“Can we talk?” His voice was low, afraid that someone would hear him.

“We are.”

Fuck this snarky piece of shit. Michael grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest and making sure the coast was clear, “Listen, I just wanted to….apologize.” The omega quirked his eyebrow, and Michael hated how many knots his stomach had twisted into, “My friends and I have been shitty to you for no fucking reason.”

“/No/ reason? None at all?”

Michael growled, “You know what I mean.”

Jon smirked, “You mean because I’m an omega. And now you know how it feels to be an omega.”

Michael nodded. That was exactly it. He realized that making fun of someone’s status was fucking dumb because a person couldn’t /choose/ their status. It was hard enough to deal with all the predatory looks; the unwanted attention from bullshit like bullying must make it worse.

Michael looked anywhere but directly at the long-haired omega, “Yeah, that’s it. Hindsight is fucking 20/20, okay? Being an omega sucks and we’re all shitty people-”

Jon laughed, effectively shutting Michael up. It wasn’t a harsh or pointed laugh. It was /genuine/, “Michael, I forgive you. It’s fine.”

Michael paused, unsure he heard the omega correctly. He was expecting nothing less than snarky animosity and silent, mocking stares from now until graduation day. Not forgiveness, “...Really?” Jon nodded, and Michael narrowed his eyes, “/Really/?”

He should be happy that the lad forgave him so easily, but It was almost too good to be true. Hell, Michael wouldn't forgive himself if he were in Jon's position. 

Jon shifted his messenger bag onto the other shoulder, and Michael got a whiff of his scent. Pine trees and eucalyptus. He smelled like a wonderful winter night. The fellow omega smiled, “You apologized, and you get it now. We’re cool. Welcome to the bottom of the food chain.”

The fiery lad grumbled, “Don’t fucking remind me." He desperately wanted to know the fellow omega's secret to remaining calm in the face of dominating alpha presences and constant bullying, "How the fuck do you not care about what we say about you? You seem so fucking unfazed by people.” God he was an asshole. He was an absolute prick, tormenting this chill guy for all these years.

“You want the funny answer or the real one?” 

“Funny.”

“I can’t smell.”

The omegas stared at each other for a solid minute as the idea blossomed in Michael’s mind. Jon couldn’t smell.

He couldn’t /smell/, “Oh.” 

Jon chuckled, “Yeah. Strong scents don’t bother me. It makes daily life a bit more manageable when you don’t have to worry about getting floored by alpha stink.”

Michael was flabbergasted. Even more, he was jealous, “How did you get so lucky?” Jon shrugged, and Michael found himself relaxing. Now that he talked to the fellow omega in person, he was a lot more laid back than he seemed. It was refreshing to not be looked at like prey for once. “What’s the legit answer?”

Jon’s expression shifted, but Michael couldn’t place it, “You accept that everyone thinks you’re a helpless, useless little slut and you get used to it.”

Michael recoiled at the sudden strong language, temper flaring. Was Jon referring to him specifically? Did the rest of the school already see him like that? “Sheesh, you’re gonna need to grow some thicker skin,” Jon joked as Michael gawked at him, “I’m talking about in general. Just assuming that everyone thinks of you like that helps rumors, you know, not hurt. It’s a pleasant surprise when you’re proven wrong, or when someone apologizes.” Jon smiled, gathering himself and stepping around the blindsided omega.

The painful truth was he had to get used to the stares. The fucking predatory looks. The teasing. 

It was bullshit. His whole existence and presence at the school shifted in a matter or days because of something as trivial as status. He used to be so much /bigger/; now, he couldn’t feel smaller in a pool of impulsive alphas and judgmental betas. He was an outcast, even among his own kind. 

He was different. 

“Hey,” Jon stood in the doorway, pulling Michael from his vortex of thoughts, “If you want everyone to stop sniffing you, you’ve got to change what you’re wearing. Bundling up in hoodies and hats is a good idea, but it makes you sweat and traps your scent in. Wearing short sleeves and baggy jeans would be better.”

Michael blinked at him, trying to absorb the information. He thought he had to cover everything up to keep his scent from getting out. It was almost a weight off his shoulders that he didn't have to bundle up every day, “Thanks.” The omega moved to leave, and Michael cleared his throat, "Are you sure you forgive me?"

Jon stared at him blankly for a moment, and Michael's shoulders tensed. He didn't deserve any forgiveness for being a jerk, so Jon's nonchalant attitude was almost unnerving. However, the fellow omega only smiled at him with the same genuineness he had earlier, "It's hard to be an omega Michael, but it's harder to be an angry, spiteful one. I'd rather forgive you than let you face this shit alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow those knothead rules are totally not foreshadowing. 
> 
> Let me know if there is something you want to see covered in the story or if you liked it!!


	2. Michael Hears

He wasn’t supposed to be hearing this.

Michael’s back was pressed against the cold metal locker, one arm through his gym shirt. He was moved to the other side of the locker room a few weeks ago due to his status change, and he was consequently separated from his friend group. It sucked to be separated by something so stupid, but every time Michael tried to make a case to be be integrated the gym teacher would scoff and mutter under his breath about hormonal teenagers. He looked at the young omega like his intentions weren’t pure; it was as if he expected the lad to jump on someone’s lap as soon as he crossed the barrier into the rest of the locker room.

It sure as fuck wasn’t the case now.

He could still hear the lighthearted conversations on the other side of the curtain. Some of the words were drowned out by slamming doors and running faucets but Michael could easily distinguish his friends voices from others.

“--I mean, it’s easy with an omega.” It was Grant’s voice for sure.

“So is it, like, a trade-off thing? Or all at once?” Another voice; it was a beta in his class.

“Both. Circle jerk and pass--” 

What the hell were they talking about? None of his friends had an omega yet.

“-- okay with -- that?” Michael cursed the locker room for being so damn noisy as kids from the last gym class lingered behind to catch up with friends.He couldn’t help but want to spy; by the way things were sounding, one of his friends had a secret omega they were courting.

“Of course -- in his nature.” Grant and some of his other friends laughed, and Michael felt a twinge of loneliness from the other side of the curtain. He wanted things to go back to normal. Being unpresented was shitty, but far less shitty than being forcibly isolated ‘for his own good’.

“Have you knotted him?” there was a bout of silence, and then the rest of the locker room erupted into laughter. 

“--Better on his knees than you’d think--” 

A low, painful tug in his gut made him tense up. The guys talked about fooling around with omegas all the time, but never like this. Never with him around. 

“Fucking lucky,” another guy chimed in, “Having a slutty omega in the friend group.”

Michael’s blood ran cold. 

“Michael is --” 

The rest of of the sentence was cut off by someone opening their locker, and the lad twisted the old t-shirt in his hands. His throat felt swollen and constricted; invisible hands had wrapped themselves around the lad’s neck and squeezed, leaving him lightheaded and short of breath. The sound of slamming doors faded away while the muffled laughter only grew louder in his ears. 

He never-

He wasn’t a-

“Michael,” A hand tapped his shoulder, violently ripping him away from his thoughts. Miles, a the only other male omega in his class, stole his attention away from the conversation in the main area. He knew Miles and Jon were close friends-- he saw them sitting together at lunch while his friends threw plasticware at each other -- but he never had classes or interacted with the skittish omega, “You okay?” 

The lad didn’t know how to answer him.

The fellow omega’s expression softened, “Were you listening to them?”

“Were /you/?”

Miles shrugged, “It’s not like there’s anything else to do over here in isolation," he chuckled nervously, as if hoping making a joke would break the tension.

He knew, prior to this, that there was a stray rumor circulating about him being the group slut. It was bound to happen with an omega hanging out with a large group of alpha males. 

He didn’t realize it was his own friends starting it. Michael thought that everything was fine between them. They never seemed to care that he presented as an omega. Sure- once or twice he would catch them sniffing him, but that was normal nowadays. 

They had to be talking about a different omega, someone that they haven’t introduced Michael to. Michael /never/ would-

The mental image of himself on his knees and surrounded by his friends suddenly made him sick, “I didn’t…” he began to defend himself.

The omega immediately cut him off, “You don’t need to convince me.”

“I’ve never done anything-”

“I know.” Miles leaned over and checked behind the curtain to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation, “It’s just a rumor. Rumors happen.”

“A rumor being started by my fucking friends!” Michael hissed, afraid to leave the safety of the locker room and rejoin his group on the other side.

“It doesn’t matter who started it-”

“-I’m gonna stop it,” Michael growled, ready to call the group out on their shit. He grabbed the edge of the large curtain and was prepared to throw it open and make a scene.

“No!” Miles immediately grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him back, “Are you insane?”

Michael struggled out of the younger omega’s grip, feeling the icy betrayal in his chest replaced by a firery urge to retaliate, “I’m not gonna let everyone think I’m some sort of slut-”

“Michael, /they won’t believe you/.” Miles crossed his arms in front of his chest as the words caused the fiery lad to calm down. 

Of course they would believe him, if he ratted them out. Right? There was a whole fucking room of students hearing his asshole friends talk about events that never happened. He wasn’t a slut...everyone should know that…

Miles lowered his voice, “Listen, Jon said you’re a chill guy. I don’t want you to make it worse for yourself. Fighting rumors will just make it worse.”

The raging inferno within him fizzled out. Miles was right; they /wouldn’t/ believe what he said. It was just one omega’s claim against an entire group of alphas. There was no proof that he /didn’t/ bend over for his friends. There was literally no reason for anyone to take the side of the alleged slut.

He pressed his palms into his eyes, suddenly a lot more fatigued, “What the fuck am I supposed to do then?”

Miles shrugged, “Lay low. It’s not like your ‘friends’,” he emphasized the association with sarcastic air-quotes, “are actually forcing you to suck their dicks. Rumors will fade.”

“But everyone thinks I’m-”

Miles rolled his eyes, “So? You’re a male omega- people are gonna assume things no matter what. You think Jon and I haven’t dealt with this before?” Michael considered it; he /had/ heard rumors about Miles before, but he never thought too much about them and, just as the omega said, the rumors faded with time. 

He groaned, resting the back of his head against the small lockers. They- Miles and Jon- were probably smarter than him when it came to being an omega. He was ready to settle things like an alpha, but his new status put him at a significant disadvantage. He was different. He couldn’t go around settling shit like he used to.

When he opened his eyes and stood up straighter, Miles was offering him a small, sympathetic smile, “You good to go?”

Was he prepared to go out there and pretend like he didn’t know his friends were flaunting him off to the school like a nice piece of ass? No.

Apparently this was his life now though, “Sure.” He shut his locker and followed the other omega out the door towards the gym. Michael couldn’t help but pointedly ignore the gazes of his class and his friends as he passed, desiring more than ever that he could tape a fake knot to his dick to make things better. 

He walked to the bleachers in silence, only bothering to tune in to what Miles was saying after the omega waved a hand in front of his face, “Hey.” He began walking away from the lad and towards his own friend group, “If you need to talk about things, you can talk to us. We get it.”

Michael scoffed; how could they get it? They didn’t go from a lacrosse jock to lacrosse whore in mere weeks, “Uh-huh.” That wouldn’t happen.

\---

Michael tried to hold his to tongue.

He tried as hard as he fucking could to pretend that things were normal. He joked around with his Lacrosse friends as if he was oblivious to the rumors. He would grit his teeth and ignore the sexual jokes he was teased and taunted with. He flipped off the students who stared at him and growled at the ones that got too close. 

Miles tried to talk to him at gym, but he wouldn’t accept the omega’s pity. Jon would shoot him concerned stares in class, but Michael kept his head down and turned away from the snickering coming from his teammates and their friends. 

The angry omega was doing everything in his power to let go-

-but the rumors got worse.

Suddenly, Michael wasn’t just fucking the lacrosse team. People gossiped about him manning a glory hole in the C-Wing bathroom and exchanging sex for homework assignments. Michael was no longer lacrosse’s slut, but the school's whore. Students whispered about the unstoppable sex magnet Michael Jones and they speculated which of his friend group would try to claim him first.

Every day, his patience dwindled more and more.

\---

Jon was the one to approach him this time.

He was in line at the cafeteria, enjoying a moment of peace away from his rowdy teammates. There was no doubt in his mind that they were talking about him right now, deciding what their next juicy story would be. Would Michael be taking two of their knots at once? Would he be begging them to let him stay over during his heat? Every time he thought about being near them, to be /exposed/ in the ways they suggested, he felt nauseous. 

Jon managed to weasel his way next to him in line, “Hey.”

Michael gripped his tray tighter, glaring at the peas in the pan in front of him.

The fellow omega handed off his tray to the warm, welcoming lunch ladies, “I’ve heard what people are saying.”

Michael figured that everyone in the fucking school district knew he was a a slutty omega already, so it wasn’t a surprise.

Jon sighed, “You can ignore me all you want, but you need to know you’re not alone.”

Bullshit.

“If you need somewhere to hang, you know, away from all of this, you can hang out with us-”

“I don’t need your pity,” Michael’s temper flared as he finally turned to face the long-haired omega, chest tight, “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

Jon wasn’t phased by the lad’s hostility. He didn’t look frustrated or annoyed; he looked concerned, “We’re not pitying you, we just want to help.”

Michael felt his fingers dig so deep into the plastic tray that the sides threatened to bend out of shape, “I don’t need any fucking help either! I need people to leave me alone-”

Jon touched him.

For the first time in weeks, Michael didn’t panic or flinch away when he was touched. The omega’s hand rested on his shoulder, but he didn’t feel threatened. Every time someone approached him, he assumed it was because they wanted his body. Strangers got too close to catch a whiff of his scent and run their fingers through his hair. He felt uncomfortable with wrestling the team because their hands would linger lower and lower, sending waves of discomfort through his body. Jon’s touch wasn’t like that, however. There was nothing sexual or implied about the gesture, and it was strangely comforting.

Jon stared him down, “Do you /really/ want to be alone?” Michael froze solid, seriously considering the question. Jon looked down at his empty tray before lowering his voice to avoid being heard by the rest of the line, “Shit sucks- Miles and I know that better than anyone. And we’re not idiots. You’ve been really out of it for the past week. Miles said he called your name six times before you answered him. You probably didn’t even notice your tray is empty, did you?”

Michael looked down, finally recognizing that there was nothing on his tray. He’d walked through the whole line in an angry trace.

Jon let go of him, “Miles went through a lot of the same things you are. You should talk to him... /or/ at least hang out with us and take your mind off things instead of stewing in your own self-hatred.”

Michael blinked hard at the last statement. He didn’t think he hated himself… just his status. If it weren’t for being an omega, he would still be comfortable with his friends instead of everyone's favorite sleazy story spread around the school.

Technically though, hating his status /would/ count as him hating himself. And forgetting about the rumors sounded great right now, “I-”

“Michael!” Grant’s voice was loud and booming compared to Jon’s soft tone. Michael had no idea where the massive lacrosse player had materialized from, only that he was suddenly directly behind him. He probably wanted the lad to grab an extra serving for him instead of waiting in line-

Suddenly, there was a warm pressure on his ass. Five thick fingers dug into his cheek, giving it a tight squeeze in front of the entire senior class. 

Panic seized him, making his throat close up and nimble fingers drop the tray. The loud clattering of his tray hitting the ground attracted the eyes of others, only making the omega more uncomfortable as they saw what likely confirmed the rumors about him. Michael felt sick, disgusted by the fingers so close to areas where /he didn’t want to be touched/-

He snapped. 

Michael turned on the alpha and delivered a mean right hook to his former friend’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. 
> 
> Everyone's other favorite omega is coming up soon!


	3. Michael Fights Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever have a chapter where you don't know how to say what you want to say? You've written four chapters that come after the chapter, but it doesn't matter because you can't post them until you've written the current one? This is that chapter.

The trip to the principal’s office after the fight had not gone as Michael had hoped. He was only able to get one good punch in before his ex-friend retaliated, and the omega was feeling the pain now that the shock and adrenaline of the moment wore off. A purple bruise was forming on his cheek and his knuckles were raw and red. 

Michael still felt it was worth it; however, the principal didn’t. 

When he was called into the office, the middle aged beta was livid, “Mr. Jones,” she began, pacing behind her desk, “You should be happy that Mr. Clark’s family didn’t want to fight to get you expelled. You could be much worse off.” She leaned over and grabbed a pink slip from her desk, handing it over with a firm, disappointed stare, “That being said, you’ve been suspended for a week.”

Michael gaped at her, “What?” He looked down at the paper, skimming it over and looking for the key words. ‘Suspension’, ‘fighting’, and ‘outraged omega’ were among the key phrases that stuck out to him, “This is bullshit! He started it!”

“You threw the first punch Mr. Jones.”

“Yeah, but he fucking grabbed me first!” 

“/Language/,” she scolded, prompting an eye roll from the lad, “And touching and punching are two very different actions.”

Michael couldn’t fucking believe that his action was apparently worse than Grant’s action, “You- You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m in more trouble even though I was fucking /groped/? What the hell am I supposed to do if I can’t defend myself?”

The principal was steadfast in her ruling, “An alpha showing more.../possessive/ behaviors towards a close omega is not unheard of. You likely overreacted to what was meant to be a friendly gesture.”

“Fingers digging into my ass isn’t friendly!” Michael felt a knot tighten in his throat. He felt sick; worse, he felt /invalidated/. It was as if how he felt about being groped didn’t matter at all. He didn’t want to be a sex object, and now thanks to the people he /thought/ were his friends, he was the school slut.

“Mr. Jones, I will warn you one more time about your language. After that, I will start adding days on to your suspension.” She sighed, “According to the nurse, you’re still fairly new to your status, right?” Michael nodded, a foul taste in his mouth. “It takes some time to adjust to how you’re supposed to behave. You need to realize that this kind of behavior is unacceptable for an omega.”

He dug his fingernails into his knees, “What the f- What is that supposed to mean? Am I not allowed to defend myself?”

She stared him down, and the answer was clear on her face. No, he wasn’t allowed to defend himself, “It means you need to realize that omegas are not meant to behave like brutes. There are expectations that come with your status that you need to learn and follow if you want to be successful- if you want to be /happy/."

Michael felt angry heat pooling behind his eyes, but he blinked it away before the principal could see, “...You’ve got to be kidding me.” He stood up, slapping his hands on the desk separating them, “If this would’ve happened before I presented, would you still tell me I was in the wrong?”

She didn’t answer.

“Are you telling me that that what they did was okay? That its okay to treat me like a piece of meat?”

“As I said, it’s possible you misinterpreted-”

“And /you’re telling me/ that I’m not allowed to defend myself?” He threw his hands up, “What am I supposed to do if I can’t defend myself?”

She let the lad finish, waiting until he backed away from the table, “My advice,” she began, “-is to get claimed by an alpha as soon as possible. If you can’t handle being an omega, then get your scent changed before an alpha decides you're too stubborn to behave like your status.”

\-----------------

It was hard to explain to his parents why he ditched his friends. His parents, an alpha and a beta, never experienced this type of discrimination. His brothers couldn’t relate either.

He only had one friend he felt safe to talk to, and he never even met the prick in person.

\----------

“Dude, that fucking blows,” the avatar in game fired a grenade at the cops, giving Michael’s avatar a chance to sneak away from the virtual cops. Playing GTA was his escape from his status. In game, he could be as loud and destructive as he wanted without worrying about rumors or other shit. 

His online friend, BrownMan, was his partner in crime. They’d met in a COD match over two years ago. Michael laughed so hard at one of the comments the dude made under his breath that he accidentally lost the game for the team. The next time they played, he realized just how good of a shot the mystery comedian was. They’d been gaming buddies ever since. 

It was nice that he didn’t know BrownMan in real life; it was nice to have someone unbiased to talk to, “What the fuck am I supposed to do now? My parents don’t understand why I suddenly dropped my “friends”, and I sure as fuck don’t know how I’m supposed to explain the week of suspension for fighting at lunch.”

“Tell them the truth. What are they gonna do, tell you you’re wrong for sticking up for yourself?” The man’s avatar had disappeared, but as Michael took the lead in the heist he noticed the distinct cover fire raining down. It was what they were best at; Michael wrecked shit on the ground and the lad supported him from a distance.

Michael was legitimately afraid they /would/ tell him he was wrong. Ever since he’d presented, everything he was and did seemed wrong. When he watched TV or read shit for class, he got the eerie feeling that the submissive omegas media portrayed was what he was /supposed/ to be. The only omega on TV he related to was O. Mega, a sultry supervillain who used their seductive powers to incapacitate the heroes; A villain was the only omega he felt any sort of relation to. “...I guess…” he sighed, continuing with the heist as planned.

His friend chuckled through the headset, “I wish I could help more dude, but I’m unpresented as fuck.”

“What? How old are you?”

“Eighteen. My parents said they were late presenters too, and they’re both betas. I’m under the assumption I’ll be one too.”

Michael scoffed, “Wanna switch?” He would kill to be a beta now. Being an omega was nothing but trouble.

“/Fuuuck/ that,” Ray’s character reappeared in a vehicle to transport them to the drop-off point, “I wouldn’t even know what to do if I was an omega. I am the literal /opposite/ of sociable.”

Michael laughed as the ‘Heist Completed’ screen came up, “Consider yourself lucky dude. Being social has brought me nothing but shit.”

Michael sighed, setting the controller down. His principal’s words floated around his head in ugly, red letters.

BrownMan must’ve caught on that the omega was lost in his thoughts, “...If it makes you feel better, I think you were right to punch that asshole.” He saw the selection screen cursor scroll through options aimlessly. The selection cursor traveled all the way down the list and then back up the way it came; Michael didn’t care what his gaming buddy picked, and it was clear the lad didn’t either.

The sentiment /did/ make Michael feel a bit better, “You don’t think I was ‘overreacting’?”

The gamer scoffed, “Fuck no. You said you heard them spreading rumors about you. Them grabbing your ass was /definitely/ not a friendly butt slap or something else like that.”

The omega remained silent, trying to let the words fully quench his inferno of worries. However, the principal’s words wouldn’t stop haunting him, “Maybe I should just find someone to claim me. Like she said.”

“Do you want that?”

The answer came almost too quickly, “No.” Michael didn’t realize how much the idea appalled him until this moment, “I don’t want to just let someone sink their teeth into me to make this go away. I mean, I definitely want this shit to stop, but…”

“...But?”

He sighed, “The idea of being with someone just to make life easier….I don’t like it.”

The two sat in silence for a moment. Michael knew he was probably being stupid. Finding a strong, protective mate was a /priority/ for the lesser status. Omegas were supposed to latch themselves to the first alpha that blinked their way and prove themselves as a beautiful, fertile, and obedient mate for them.

Michael wasn’t fertile. He wasn’t obedient. He was different. 

He was different and something about being claimed for convenience rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t want a relationship like that. He wanted something that was mutual. Real.

He cleared his throat, “I’m just being stupid, sorry.”

The unpresented lad let out a noncommittal noise, “It’s all good, just send me your therapy session copay later." Michael laughed, finally feeling the emotional pressure in his chest ease. "….Do you have any friends at school that aren’t in that friend group that you could hang out with? You’ve got to make a plan now that you’ve broken those friendships.”

“Uhh…” He glanced at his phone. Jon’s words echoed in the back of his mind, “Maybe. There’s two omegas in my classes that don’t seem like assholes.” They had even offered him a place to go. They offered themselves as people he could talk to.

“Well, not being an asshole is a huge improvement compared to your last group.”

Ray was right. Even moreso, Jon was right. He didn’t want to be alone. He had BrownMan, but the gamer couldn’t help him when he was at school. Jon and Miles were there, and they /understood/. They probably understood more about how he felt than /he/ did.

He snatched his phone off the floor and started scrolling through his contacts, “Guess I have some free time to make friends now anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ray finally showed up to the party.
> 
> Let me know what y'all think! I love questions and suggestions to break up the grad school monotony.


	4. Michael is Thirsty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spring Break is finally here. Woot Woot.

Raspberry lemonade.

Michael’s body instantly reacted to the scent, turning his mind to mush and making his heart thump wildly in his chest. The smell completely engulfed him and then faded away as fast as it came. 

He wanted to bathe in that scent. There were a few scents at school that overpowered him and made him feel fatigued, but this scent was delicious and so much better. He never craved other people’s scents, but raspberry lemonade just fucking /did something/ to him.

The omega didn’t even realize he’d zoned out until Miles snapped his fingers in front of his nose, “Michael, you good?”

The rest of the world solidified around him. The distant shouting of drunk teenagers got louder and the vibrations of the music in the next room pulsed under his feat. Right; Jon and Miles coerced him outside of his house to come to a homecoming party. They insisted that he couldn’t just hide in his room for the rest of senior year and demanded they have an ‘omega night’. As much as Michael didn’t want to come, knowing his old friends would be there and not wanting to hear the shit people were saying about him, he owed it to Jon and Miles to try. Despite being a piece of shit to them, they accepted him into their friend group with open arms. They told him about the struggles they had when they first presented, and it actually helped the fiery lad feel a bit better. It was nice to have people around who weren’t actively judging him.

Miles stared at Michael, visibly amused, “Whose scent was it?”

He shrugged, still lingering onto the last whiffs of lemonade in the air, “No idea. Raspberry lemonade?”

The omega’s smile grew, and he pointed over Michael’s shoulder, “Randall Parks.”

Randall Parks. Linebacker. Rich dark brown hair and nice, broad shoulders. Alpha. He glanced back at the group of drunk football players, watching the delicious smelling classmate from afar.

He didn’t know too much about the football team aside from the occasional scandalous hookup, and Randall never came up in those stories. That was probably a good thing, “He smells fucking amazing,” he mumbled.

“Don’t rub it in,” Jon teased.

Michael stared blankly at the group of alphas for a moment before downing the rest of his drink, “I’m gonna go talk to him.”

His friends stared at him, a bit shocked, “What?”

He merely shrugged, “I’ve got nothing to lose, right?” He already had a shit reputation, so nothing he did could make it any worse. Plus, he wasn’t at school; he could defend himself if anyone gave him a hard time.

Before Jon and Miles could try to talk him out of it, he was weaving through the drunk teenagers and approaching Randall. The smell was even better up close, and he found himself unable to think of something clever to start the conversation with. “Sup.”

The alpha locked eyes with him, and Michael’s nerves went haywire. It took everything in his willpower not to tilt his head to the side out of instinct. The alpha didn’t seem phased by his scent at all though; he looked the omega over, a small smile coming to his lips, “You’re lacrosse, right? Jones?” Michael nodded, shocked that the boy identified him so easily. Well, except for the fact that the entire senior class knew him as the lacrosse omega slut who flipped shit. Oh well, “You’re not gonna punch me, are you?”

Michael rolled his eyes, “Not unless you give me a reason to,” he retorted, words drowned out by the music blaring in the living room.

Randall smiled. Michael’s heart thumped wildly in his chest.

The two conversed, and Michael was finally starting to get comfortable. The alpha seemed nice (a fucking shocker), and Michael was absolutely sold when Randall asked if he wanted to sit and talk somewhere quieter. He glanced around at the rest of the party, and saw Jon shooting him a quick gesture: ‘You good?’ He asked.

He was drowning in a pool of raspberry lemonade and his tall, dark, and handsome linebacker wasn’t treating him like shit. He was great. He shot the omega a thumbs up, talking to the football player until the party dwindled down to stragglers.

\---

Randall was his first official boyfriend. 

They went on a few dates after the party, and Michael found himself integrated back into the social ladder, this time as ‘The Linebacker’s omega’. He wasn’t fond of the way the alpha’s friends addressed him, but they seemed to be nice enough. At least, they were better than his old group; none of them tried to spread false shit about him. Randall seemed a bit uncomfortable hanging out with Jon and Miles, but his little pack was as accepting as ever. 

He liked being in a relationship. He was all for stealing hoodies and going to bonfires and making out at lunch. Everything was okay-

-except, it never felt okay. Sometimes it felt like he wasn’t even there. The team would get together and wrestle; they’d chug beer, argue, and be loud. Michael loved all that shit, and he was expected to sit on Randall’s lap and just /exist/. He was there, but he wasn’t equal with the others.

They’d started scenting at the neck very quick; most of the time, Randall initiated it. He’d finish a particularly rough game and grab him to pull him into his broad chest. Michael would bear his neck without even realizing he did it. Once again, he didn’t mind- he loved his boyfriend’s scent- but there was something unnerving about the way he grabbed him by the hips. He couldn’t explain why the strong, commanding hands on his hips made him so nervous. It was too close. Too intimate.

His uncertainty rose until, one day, making out turned into more.

\---

They were on the alpha’s couch, lips locked and Michael’s back pressed against the cold leather cushions. He was only a bit scent drunk, and everything was fine. 

Without warning, there was a bare hand traveling up his exposed stomach, and he forgot how to breathe. He didn’t like it. Something was wrong. The sensation was overwhelming, and suddenly the hot breath on his neck was also too much. 

He sat up, dazed from the sudden shift in emotions. Randall sat up as well, pupils blown wide and one eyebrow raised, “You good?”

“I-” he faltered. He didn’t know. He didn’t understand what he was feeling.

The alpha put a hand on the nape of his neck. At first it was comforting, but then the hand trailed under his shirt, sending more waves of ‘nope’ through his veins, “I thought we could, you know…” He trailed off reconnecting their lips before Michael truly had a chance to recover. His body instantly submitted under the dominant hands, but his mind was screaming. The hands on his bare chest. The burning trail they left down to his hips. The vulnerable sensation as he felt his jeans suddenly be tugged downwards-

He snapped out of it, wriggling out of the alpha’s touch. His boyfriend looked even more confused, “Dude, it’s just sex. Everyone does it.”

Michael crossed his arms in front of his chest. If everyone did it, did it feel this uncomfortable for everyone as well? “I’m not cool with this.”

The football player didn’t look mad, just shocked, “It’s not like you can get pregnant or anything. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. He didn’t give a shit about getting pregnant at the moment, “I don’t care. I can’t.” 

Although the football player was clearly confused as fuck, he backed off. Michael asked to go home and he drove him back, no questions asked. The lad told him he needed time to think, and Randall said it was okay.

His first relationship was over, just like that.

Randall was a good guy- Michael would stand by that. Even though their breakup was awkward and abrupt, the linebacker never talked about what happened between them. He could’ve easily shamed him by telling his team all about his tease of an ex-boyfriend, but there was no animosity. 

Michael just wished he understood what happened to make him feel so uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that it's Spring Break I can knock out a few more chapters- brace yourselves! Let me know what y'all wanna see!


	5. Michael Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but important chapter~

“So, uh, what does attraction feel like?”

“Wow, coming out pretty early with the big guns there, aren’t we.” BrownMan- Ray, he learned the lad’s name was- teased.

His face turned red, thankful that they were talking through a headset, “Shut up. I’m being legit.” He slammed on his controller, doing his best to keep his outbursts to a minimum for his mother who had a headache, “I broke up with my boyfriend and things were weird.”

“Define weird. Like, pretzel dick weird or sleeps with a giant inflatable doll weird?”

“...What the fuck?” Ray laughed on the other line, and Michael took his revenge by shooting Ray’s character in the shoulder, “Neither of those. We were making out-”

“Hot.” Ray interjected.

“-and he started touching me and I just freaked out.” He didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like, but by the way everyone talked about sex, it should’ve felt a lot more enjoyable, “I should’ve liked it, right? Omegas like sex.” What he experienced felt far from enjoyable though, “Maybe I wasn’t attracted to him the way I thought I was? I don’t know. I /thought/ I liked him.”

Ray’s character paused, and he heard the munching of chips through the speaker, “Well, did you want to bang him prior to this?”

He shrugged, “I didn’t really think about it. I just liked him because he smelled good.”Ray laughed at him again, and he growled, “I will fight you if you don’t shut up and help me.”

“I’m sorry! Sorry,” he chuckled a bit more, “Did you think about him while you were jerking off at any point? Did you ever look at him and- what the fuck is an omega equivalent of a boner?- get hard? Wet yourself?”

Michael scoffed, “Bold of you to assume I’m jerking off. I have stupid fucking heats- that’s enough discomfort on its own.” Ray made a point though; he couldn’t remember ever getting slick or jerking off thinking about his ex. He didn’t think about anyone on the rare occasion he chose to rub one out, “You’re right though- I don’t think I was attracted to him…” If that was the case, then who was he attracted to? He thought he was attracted to the football player- he definitely liked his scent.

“Well, who /have/ you jerked off to? Be careful- I will judge you if you say someone stupid.”

Michael thought hard about it, but couldn’t think of anyone that seeped into his fantasies, “Uh….no one? I can’t think of anyone.” He was starting to get very concerned, “Who do /you/ jerk off to?”

“Dude, the list is long and this mission is short,” he joked. How come Ray could easily think about people who turned him on, and he couldn’t think of /anyone/? He blew up the cargo truck in silence, worry enveloping him. Was something wrong with him?

Ray noticed the radio silence and got his attention with a warning shot in-game, “You probably just haven’t found your type yet. Go watch some porn and see what gets you hot and bothered.”

“I don’t just have porn lying around Ray.” His mother would kill him if he did. Ray didn’t have that issue; he apparently had his own apartment already, and the fellow omega was jealous.

Ray snickered, “I’ll send you a few good ones. Let me know how it goes.”

\---

Two hours later, Michael stared blankly at his computer screen before sending a message to his gaming pal:

MICHAEL: IDK what the fuck you just sent me is supposed to be, but it didn’t look sanitary or comfortable.

RAY: Really? Not even the ‘2 Omegas, 1 Cup’? 

MICHAEL: No.

MICHAEL: Especially not that one.

MICHAEL: What kind of kinky shit are you into? Was any of this supposed to make me horny?

RAY: Wouldn’t you like to know ;)

RAY: It’s supposed to, but I guess none of it fell into your type. I thought I sent you a wide range of videos though.

Michael paused, panic brewing in his stomach. The videos were different, with different types of statuses and positions, but he only felt uncomfortable watching people get contorted into different positions and get sweaty. 

Was there something wrong with him?

MICHAEL: Is it possible to not have a type?

RAY: I mean, probably.

RAY: I wouldn’t stress about it though. No one is gonna jump out of the bushes and ask you what you’re into.

RAY: The cool thing about being a punk-ass teen like yourself is that you don’t have to have everything figured out, right?

Michael smiled, feeling slightly reassured by his unpresented friend. He’d figure out ‘his type’ eventually.

MICHAEL: Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would y'all want to read about Michael's first heat here? Or would you rather I gloss over it in favor of the main self-discovery plot? Let me know!


End file.
